{"id":593,"date":"2013-07-13T01:29:06","date_gmt":"2013-07-13T01:29:06","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/localhost\/?p=593"},"modified":"2013-07-13T01:29:06","modified_gmt":"2013-07-13T01:29:06","slug":"13-vidula-vol-08-translations-volume-08","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/worksofthemotherandsriaurobindo.org\/index.php\/01-works-of-sri-aurobindo\/01-sabcl\/08-translations-volume-08\/13-vidula-vol-08-translations-volume-08","title":{"rendered":"-13_Vidula.htm"},"content":{"rendered":"
\n\n\n
\n


\n                                                                     VIDULA<\/font><\/span><\/b><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

This poem is based on a
\npassage comprising four chapters (Adhyayas<\/span><\/i>) in the Udyog-parva of the Mahabharata.<\/u> It
\nis not a close translation but a free poetic paraphrase of the subject-matter;
\nit follows closely the sequence of the thoughts with occasional rearrangements,
\ntranslates freely in parts, in others makes some departures or adds, develops
\nand amplifies to bring out fully the underlying spirit and idea. The style of
\nthe original is terse, brief, packed and allusive, sometimes knotted into a
\npregnant obscurity by the drastic economy of word and phrase. It would have
\nbeen impossible to pre\u00adserve effectively in English such a style; a looser
\nfullness of expression has been preferred sacrificing the letter to the spirit.
\nThe text of a Calcutta edition has been followed throughout. The whole passage
\nwith its envoi or self-laudatory close reads like an independent poem
\ndovetailed into the vast epic.<\/i><\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/span><\/b><\/p>\n

 <\/span>THE MOTHER TO HER SON*<\/span><\/b> <\/i><\/span><\/a><\/p>\n

 <\/span><\/i><\/p>\n

There are few more
\ninteresting passages in the Mahabharata than the conversation of Vidula with
\nher son. It comes into the main poem as\u2019 an exhortation from Kunti to
\nYudhisthir to give up the weak spirit of sub\u00admission, moderation, prudence, and
\nfight like a true warrior and Kshatriya for right and justice and his own. But
\nthe poem bears internal evidence of having been written by a patriotic poet to
\nstir his countrymen to revolt against the yoke of the foreigner. Sanjay, prince
\nand leader of an Aryan people, has been defeated by the king of Sindhu and his
\nKingdom is in the possession of the invader. The fact of the king of Sindhu or
\nthe country wound the Indus being named as the invader shows that the poet must
\nhave kid in his mind one of the aggressive foreign powers, whether Persia,
\nGraeco-Bactria, Parthia or the Scythians, which took possession one after the
\nother of these regions and made them the base for inroads upon the North-West,
\nThe poet seeks to fire the spirit of the conquered and subject people and impel
\nthem to throw off the hated subjection. He personifies in Vidula the spirit of
\nthe motherland speaking to her degenerate son and striving to awaken in him the
\ninherited Aryan manhood and the Kshatriya\u2019s preference of death to servitude.<\/span><\/i><\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/span><\/p>\n

\u2022 When the poem was first published in Bande Mataram<\/i> in 19O7
\nit was called The Mother to Her Son<\/i> and prefixed with this note. <\/font><\/span><\/p>\n

Page \u2013 61<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\n\n
\n

 <\/td>\n

\n
\n


\nVIDULA<\/a><\/span><\/b> <\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/span><\/p>\n

\nH<\/font><\/b><\/span>earken to the ancient converse of which old
\ntraditions tell, <\/span><\/p>\n

Of the youthful Sunjoy with his mother the
\nindomitable <\/span><\/p>\n

Vidula, the passionate princess, royal in
\nher mood and form, <\/span><\/p>\n

Fiery-souled, the resolute speaker with her
\ntameless heart of storm, <\/span><\/p>\n

High her fame in kingly senates where the
\nnations\u2019 princes met, <\/span><\/p>\n

Eloquent and proud and learned, with a soul
\nforeseeing fate. <\/span><\/p>\n

Conquered by the King of Sindhu^ hurled down
\nfrom his lofty throne, <\/span><\/p>\n

As he lay unnerved and abject, came she to
\nher warlike son, <\/span><\/p>\n

Vidula, the passionate princess, and she
\nspoke with burning eyes, <\/span><\/p>\n

Scourging him with words like flakes of
\nfire, bidding him arise. <\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cSon,\u201d she cried, \u201cno son of mine to make
\nthy mother\u2019s hearth rejoice! <\/span><\/p>\n

Hark, thy foemen mock and triumph, yet to
\nlive is still thy choice. <\/span><\/p>\n

Nor thy hero father got thee, nor I bore
\nthee in my womb, <\/span><\/p>\n

Random changeling from some world of petty
\nsouls and coward gloom! <\/span><\/p>\n

Passionless and abject nature, stripped and
\nvoid of bold desire, <\/span><\/p>\n

Nerveless of all masculine endeavour,
\nwithout force and fire, <\/span><\/p>\n

Reckon not thy name midst men who liest
\nflinging manhood far. <\/span><\/p>\n

Rise and bear thy yoke, thou warhorse,
\nneighing for the crash of war! <\/span><\/p>\n

Make not great thy foemen with thy terrors,
\npanic eyes behind. \u2018 <\/span><\/p>\n

Thou, a king\u2019s son, canst thou tremble ? be
\na king indeed in mind, <\/span><\/p>\n

Soar up like a sudden eagle beating high
\nagainst the wind. <\/span><\/p>\n

Out, arise, thou coward! lie not thus upon
\nthe ground o\u2019erthrown, <\/span><\/p>\n

Shorn of pride, thy foes\u2019 delight, thy
\nfriends\u2019 shame, making fruitless moan. <\/span><\/p>\n

Easily a paltry river with the meagre floods
\no\u2019erflows, <\/span><\/p>\n

Easily the field-mouse with her mite of
\ngrain contented goes, <\/span><\/p>\n

Easily the coward ceases fainting from his
\ngreat emprise. <\/span><\/p>\n

Break the serpent\u2019s fangs between thy hands
\nand perish, not as dies <\/span><\/p>\n

Impotent a whining dog, go deathward, but as
\ncircles o\u2019er his prey, <\/span><\/p>\n

But as wheels an angry falcon through the
\nwide and azure day <\/span><\/p>\n

Watching for his moment, thou in fearless
\nsilence wait thy time <\/span><\/p>\n

Or with resonant and far-voiced challenge
\nwaken war sublime. <\/span><\/p>\n

Wherefore like a dead thing thunder-blasted
\nliest thou on the ground ? <\/span><\/p>\n

Rise, thou coward, seek not slumber while
\nthe victors jeer around. <\/span><\/p>\n

Turn not miserably to thy set, but smiting
\nwith the sword <\/span><\/p>\n

Make the world re-echo! deem that thou wast
\nborn to be its lord, <\/span><\/p>\n

Not with middle place content nor abject;
\nall subjection spurn. <\/span><\/p>\n

Page \u2013 63<\/span><\/p>\n

<\/p>\n
\n

<\/span><\/div>\n<\/div>\n

\n

Stand erect, whate\u2019er befall thee, roaring
\non thy hunters turn. <\/span><\/p>\n

Blaze out like a fireband even if for a
\nmoment burning high, <\/span><\/p>\n

Not like the poor fire of husks that
\nsmoulders long, afraid to die. <\/span><\/p>\n

Better is the swift and glorious flame that
\nmounting dies of power, <\/span><\/p>\n

Not to smoke in squalid blackness, hour on
\nwretched futile hour. <\/span><\/p>\n

Out to battle, do thy man\u2019s work, falter not
\nin high attempt;<\/span><\/p>\n

So a man is quit before his God and saved
\nfrom self-contempt. <\/span><\/p>\n

For the great heart grieves not though he
\nlose the glorious crown of strife, <\/span><\/p>\n

But he does the work before him, holding
\ncheap his body\u2019s life. <\/span><\/p>\n

Show thy prowess, be the hero thou wast
\nborn, with flashing glaive <\/span><\/p>\n

Hew thy way with God before thee to the
\nheaven of the brave. <\/span><\/p>\n

All the wells that thou hast dug, the beasts
\nthat thou hast offered, all <\/span><\/p>\n

Fame is gone to wrack; thy roots of pleasure
\ncut, the tree must fall. <\/span><\/p>\n

Eunuch, wherefore dost thou live? if thou
\nmust sink, with thy last breath <\/span><\/p>\n

Seize thy foeman by the thigh and drag him
\nwith thee down to death. <\/span><\/p>\n

Though his roots be cut, the strong man
\nstands up stiff, he sinks not prone. <\/span><\/p>\n

Mark the warhorse in the battle with the
\nsunken car o\u2019erthrown, <\/span><\/p>\n

Up he struggles, full of pride and rage.
\nThou too like him exalt <\/span><\/p>\n

Thy low fortunes, lift thy great house
\nshamed and ruined through thy fault, <\/span><\/p>\n

He whose perfect deeds as of a demigod in
\nstrength and mind <\/span><\/p>\n

Make not up the daily talk and glory of
\namazed mankind, <\/span><\/p>\n

What is he but one more clod to feed the
\nfire and help the soil? <\/span><\/p>\n

He is neither man nor woman. Man is he whose
\nfire and toil, <\/span><\/p>\n

Turned to wealth or turned to wisdom, truth
\nor piety of soul, <\/span><\/p>\n

Travel through the spacious world renowned
\nfrom pole to ringing pole, <\/span><\/p>\n

Or in austere works or knowledge or in
\nvalour quick and high <\/span><\/p>\n

He outdoes his fellow-creatures scaling the
\nimmortals\u2019 sky. <\/span><\/p>\n

Be not as the vagrant beggar seeking food
\nfrom door to door, <\/span><\/p>\n

Shameless with his skull and rosary wretched
\nhandfuls to implore. <\/span><\/p>\n

Cowardly, ignoble and unfeeling is the life
\nthey lead, <\/span><\/p>\n

Equal to the houseless street-dog whom
\ncompassionate hands must feed, <\/span><\/p>\n

Let not ever son of mine be such an one as
\nall men scorn, <\/span><\/p>\n

Without throne and without purple, weak,
\nemaciate and forlorn, <\/span><\/p>\n

Mean and with mean things content and
\nvaunting o\u2019er a little gain. <\/span><\/p>\n

Such an one his foes delight in, but his
\nfriends are joyless men. <\/span><\/p>\n

We shall perish, exiles from our country,
\nplagued with wretched want, <\/span><\/p>\n

All obscure who were so glorious, doomed to
\npetty things and scant <\/span><\/p>\n

Wandering in loveless places, dreaming at an
\nalien door <\/span><\/p>\n

Page \u2013 64<\/span><\/p>\n

<\/p>\n
\n

<\/span><\/div>\n

Of delightful things and pleasant in our
\njoyous lives of yore. <\/span><\/p>\n

Death and shame in thee I bore and fondly
\ndeemed I had a son. <\/span><\/p>\n

Better were a woman barren than to bear with
\nlabour one <\/span><\/p>\n

Sluggish, weak and hopeless, without noble
\nwrath and warlike fire. <\/span><\/p>\n

Sunjoy. Sunjoy. waste not thou thy flame in
\nsmoke! Impetuous, dire, <\/span><\/p>\n

Leap upon thy foes for havoc as a famished
\nlion leaps, <\/span><\/p>\n

Storming through thy vanquished victors till
\nthou fall on slaughtered heaps. <\/span><\/p>\n

This is manhood to refuse defeat and insult
\nnot to bear. <\/span><\/p>\n

He who suffers and forgives, who bows his
\nneck the yoke to wear, <\/span><\/p>\n

Is too weak for man, too base to be a woman.
\nLoiterings <\/span><\/p>\n

Clog a mounting fortune, low contentment
\nfetters, fear unwings, <\/span><\/p>\n

And a fainting over-pitiful heart she scorns
\nfor her abode. <\/span><\/p>\n

In thy strength reject these poisons, tread
\nnot vile subjection\u2019s road.<\/span><\/p>\n

Make thy man\u2019s heart hard like iron to
\npursue and take thy own. <\/span><\/p>\n

Out to battle! let not woman\u2019s weakness
\nshame thy manhood, son. <\/span><\/p>\n

Fortune dogs the hero\u2019s goings who like,
\nOcean in his pride <\/span><\/p>\n

Walks through life with puissant footsteps
\nas a lion the hill-side. <\/span><\/p>\n

Even when he has gone where fate shall lead
\nhim, still his people climb <\/span><\/p>\n

On the wave of his great actions to a joy
\nand strength sublime. <\/span><\/p>\n

For a King must exile pleasure, turn from
\nsafety to waylay <\/span><\/p>\n

Fortune for his nation like a hunter
\ntracking down his prey. <\/span><\/p>\n

Wise and fortunate ministers shall help him,
\nthousands share his joy.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/span><\/p>\n

But to Vidula, amazed and angry answered
\nswift the boy.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWhere shall be thy bliss, my mother, though
\nthe whole wide earth were thine, <\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/span><\/p>\n

If thine eyes of me are vacant? the delight
\nof raiment fine, <\/span><\/p>\n

Food and gems and rich enjoyments, what were
\nthese without thy son?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/span><\/p>\n

But the mother in her surge of passion
\nanswered rushing on. <\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cBe that Hell my foeman\u2019s where the loiterer
\nand the coward climb, <\/span><\/p>\n

Who avoid occasion, murmuring, \u2018Why today?
\n\u2018tis not the time,\u2019 <\/span><\/p>\n

May my friends go flocking to that world
\nwhere the high-crested go, <\/span><\/p>\n

Who respect the self within them and its
\nnoble value know.<\/span><\/p>\n

But who, stripped of mastery, eat the bitter
\nbread that others give,<\/span><\/p>\n

Miserable souls and strengthless, is it life
\nthat such men live?       <\/span><\/i>      <\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

Live not with such abject living, be a
\nprince and chief of men.<\/span><\/p>\n

Let the Brahmins look toward thee even as to
\nthe King of Rain <\/span><\/p>\n

Page \u2013 65<\/span><\/p>\n

<\/p>\n
\n

<\/span><\/div>\n<\/div>\n

\n

All this world of creatures turns for
\nsustenance with expectant eyes.<\/span><\/p>\n

Mighty Gods to mightier Indra from their
\ngolden thrones arise.<\/span><\/p>\n

Lo, his hands to whom all creatures for
\ntheir bliss come crowding fast,<\/span><\/p>\n

As to a ripe-fruited tree the birds
\ninnumerably haste,<\/span><\/p>\n

And his life indeed is counted, for he reaps
\nthe earth with deeds<\/span><\/p>\n

And on friend and fere and kinsman showers
\nunasked their princely needs, \u2014 <\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/span><\/p>\n

Living by his arm\u2019s strength, taking only
\nwhat his hand has won, <\/span><\/p>\n

Gathering here an earthly glory, shining
\nthere like Indra\u2019s sun.\u201d <\/span><\/p>\n

Page \u2013 66<\/span><\/p>\n

<\/p>\n
\n

<\/span><\/div>\n<\/div>\n

\n

II<\/span><\/b><\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cEvil is thy state, O Sunjoy; lose the
\nmanhood from thy soul <\/span><\/p>\n

And thou treadst the path of vilest spirits
\nwith their Hell for goal. <\/span><\/p>\n

Shall a warrior born of warriors to whom
\nHeaven gave fire divine, <\/span><\/p>\n

Spend it not in mighty actions lavish of the
\nGod within? <\/span><\/p>\n

Shall he hug his life for ever? He is then a
\nthief to Heaven;<\/span><\/p>\n

For to swell the days of earth with glorious
\ndeeds that strength was given. <\/span><\/p>\n

Hear me, Sunjoy! Sindhu\u2019s monarch rules in
\nmight the conquered folk, <\/span><\/p>\n

But their hearts bend not before him, they
\nabhor me foreign yoke. <\/span><\/p>\n

They from weakness sit with minds
\nbewildered, full of hate and grief, <\/span><\/p>\n

Waiting sullenly a sea of miseries, hopeless
\nof relief. <\/span><\/p>\n

Gather faithful friends and get thee valiant
\nhelpers; through our lands <\/span><\/p>\n

Working with a fierce persistence,
\nstrengthening still thy mighty hands. <\/span><\/p>\n

Others when they see thy daring shall be
\nstirred to noble strife, <\/span><\/p>\n

Catch thy fire and rise in strong rebellion
\nscorning goods and life. <\/span><\/p>\n

Make with these a close and mighty
\nfollowing, seek the pathless hills, <\/span><\/p>\n

Region difficult and strong and sullen
\npasses walled with ills <\/span><\/p>\n

For the rash invader; there in arms expect
\nthe tyrant\u2019s hour;<\/span><\/p>\n

He is not a god to be immortal, not for ever
\nlasts his power. <\/span><\/p>\n

Knowst thou not the ancient Brahmin with his
\ndeep and inward eye <\/span><\/p>\n

That beholds the ages, told of thee that
\nlowly thou shouldst lie, <\/span><\/p>\n

Yet again arise and prosper! Victor1<\/sup>
\nnamed, a victor be. <\/span><\/p>\n

Therefore have I chidden and urged thee, to
\nawake thy destiny. <\/span><\/p>\n

O my son, believe me, he whose victory
\nbrings the common gain <\/span><\/p>\n

And a nation conquers with him, cannot fail;
\nhis goal is plain <\/span><\/p>\n

And his feet divinely guided, for his steps
\nto Fate belong. <\/span><\/p>\n

O my son, think this whilst thou art
\nfighting: \u2018Generations long <\/span><\/p>\n

Of my fathers walk beside me and a nation\u2019s
\nmighty dead <\/span><\/p>\n

Watch me; for my greatness is their own, my
\nslavery bows their head.\u2019 <\/span><\/p>\n

In this knowledge turn thy thoughts to
\nbattle; Sunjoy, draw not back! <\/span><\/p>\n

Eviller plight is not nor sinfuller, this
\nday\u2019s bread to lack <\/span><\/p>\n

Nor to know from whence shall come the
\nbitter morrow\u2019s scanty meal. <\/span><\/p>\n

It is worse than death of spouse or child
\nsuch indigence to feel. <\/span><\/p>\n

That\u2019s a grief that strikes and passes, this
\na long and living death. <\/span><\/p>\n

In a house of mighty monarchs I derived my
\nearliest breath;<\/span><\/p>\n

As from ocean into ocean sails a ship in
\nbannered pride,<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/span><\/p>\n

\u00b9
\n<\/span>\u201cSunjoy\u201d. Sanskrit
\n\u201cSanjaya\u201d, means \u201cVictory\u201d.<\/span> <\/span><\/p>\n

Page \u2013 67<\/span><\/p>\n

<\/p>\n
\n

<\/span><\/div>\n

To a house of mighty monarchs came I in my
\nmarriage-tide, <\/span><\/p>\n

Queen and Empress, filled with joys and
\nblessings, worshipped by my lord, <\/span><\/p>\n

And my kin rejoiced to see me rich in wealth
\nand jewelled hoard, <\/span><\/p>\n

Clothed in smooth and splendid raiment, girt
\nwith friends and nobly stored. <\/span><\/p>\n

When thou seest me weak and abject and the
\nweeping of thy wife, <\/span><\/p>\n

Wilt thou in thy breath take pleasure, wilt
\nthou love thy shameful life? <\/span><\/p>\n

Wouldst thou see thy household priests and
\nholy teachers leave our side, <\/span><\/p>\n

Our retainers hopeless of their sustenance
\nwho had served thy pride? <\/span><\/p>\n

In thy proud aspiring actions, son, I lived;
\nif these are past, <\/span><\/p>\n

Peace can dwell not in my bosom and my heart
\nshall break at last. <\/span><\/p>\n

Must I then turn back the Brahmin when he
\nsues for gold or lands? <\/span><\/p>\n

Shame would tear my heart-strings; never,
\nSunjoy, went with empty hands <\/span><\/p>\n

From thy father\u2019s seat or from thy mother\u2019s
\npresence suppliant men. <\/span><\/p>\n

We were ever all men\u2019s refuge; shall we sue
\nto others then? <\/span><\/p>\n

Life shall leave me rather, I will seek that
\nhouse of nether calms. <\/span><\/p>\n

Never will I tread a stranger\u2019s floor and
\nlive upon his insolent alms.<\/span><\/p>\n

Lo! we toss in shoreless waters, be the
\nhaven to our sail!<\/span><\/p>\n

Lo! we drown in monstrous billows, be our
\nboat with kindly hail! <\/span><\/p>\n

Save our hopeless fortunes! We are dead men
\ndrawing empty breath, <\/span><\/p>\n

Be a hero and deliverer, raise us from this
\nliving death. <\/span><\/p>\n

Dare to die, O hero! Where is then the
\nfoeman half so strong <\/span><\/p>\n

As to overcome thy onset? Who would choose
\nto suffer long <\/span><\/p>\n

Years of sad despondent weakness? sudden
\ndeath is better far. <\/span><\/p>\n

Single out their mightiest, let thy fame
\no\u2019ertop the surge of war. <\/span><\/p>\n

Indra by the death of Vritra seized the
\nmonarchy of Heaven;<\/span><\/p>\n

Lord of teeming worlds, to him the largest
\nsovereign part is given. <\/span><\/p>\n

Calling to his armoured foes defiance, lo,
\nthe hero proud <\/span><\/p>\n

Shouts his name across the roar of battle
\nlike a lion loud <\/span><\/p>\n

And he breaks their foremost, and they fall
\napart like scattered spray, <\/span><\/p>\n

Till he slays their leader and mightiest
\nwinning glory wide as day. <\/span><\/p>\n

Then his haters\u2019 hearts are troubled, then
\nthey bow reluctant heads. <\/span><\/p>\n

For he hurls his life into the battle and on
\ndeath he treads <\/span><\/p>\n

Towards victory; all the cowards and the
\ntremblers of the earth <\/span><\/p>\n

Come with gifts and incense crowding to
\nprovide his ease and mirth, <\/span><\/p>\n

Is it death thou fleest from? Sunjoy, savage
\nis the fall of Kings, <\/span><\/p>\n

For a wise foe leaves no remnants, hands to
\nstab or fugitive wings.<\/span><\/p>\n

To be King is heaven, O Sunjoy^ sweet as
\nnectar to the lip<\/span><\/p>\n

Power is to the mighty. Son of Kings, thou
\nboldest in thy grip<\/span> <\/span><\/p>\n

Page \u2013 68<\/span><\/p>\n

<\/p>\n
<\/span><\/div>\n

\nHeaven or empire; rush then like a meteor on
\nthe vaunting foe!
\n<\/span><\/p>\n

\nReaper in the battle! kinglike lay their
\narmed thousands low.
\n<\/span><\/p>\n

\nSunjoy, terror of thy foemen, let me see not
\nin thy close
\n<\/span><\/p>\n

\nA poor crouching coward girt with weeping
\nfriends and shouting foes.
\n<\/span><\/p>\n

\nVail not thou thy crest to be a mock for
\nSindhu\u2019s laughing girls:<\/span><\/p>\n

\nTake her highborn damsels for thy handmaids,
\nwith her conquered pearls
\n<\/span><\/p>\n

\nWreathe thy queen, be strong and splendid as
\nof yore in youthful pride.
\n<\/span><\/p>\n

\nYoung and shaped to princely beauty,
\ncultured, to great Kings allied,
\n<\/span><\/p>\n

\nSuch a man as thou to deviate from thy bold
\nand radiant mood!
\n<\/span><\/p>\n

\nThou to bow thy neck to other yoke than
\nEarth\u2019s, for alien food<\/span><\/p>\n

\nSpeaking sweet to strangers, following with
\na meek inclined head!<\/span><\/p>\n

\nIf I see thee thus degraded, I shall think
\nmy son is dead.
\n<\/span><\/p>\n

\nBut I know this country\u2019s mighty princes and
\ntheir lordly race
\n<\/span><\/p>\n

\nFirmer-rooted than the mountains in eternal
\nkingliness.
\n<\/span><\/p>\n

\nIn our fathers and forefathers \u2018twas the
\nsame and in our sons<\/span><\/p>\n

\nShall be and their progeny for ever while
\nthe Ganges runs.
\n<\/span><\/p>\n

\nIt was made by God a grandeur! Never prince
\nof the ancient seed,
\n<\/span><\/p>\n

\nNever prince who did the deeds of princehood
\nin this land was bred,
\n<\/span><\/p>\n

\nWho would crouch and gaze for sustenance,
\nwho in fear would bow his neck.
\n<\/span><\/p>\n

\n
\n <\/span><\/p>\n

\nLike a giant tree he has no joints to bend
\nwith, though he break;<\/span><\/p>\n

\nBreak he may, but bends not. If he bows, to
\nholy men in awe<\/span><\/p>\n

\nBows he;
\nif he yields, it is to justice and religion\u2019s law,
\n<\/span><\/p>\n

\nNot to
\nequal or inferiors: them he holds with sternest hand<\/span>,<\/span><\/p>\n

\nSmiting still the strong ill-doer and the
\ntroublers of the land,<\/span><\/p>\n

\nMightily like a maddened elephant through
\nthe world he storms abroad<\/span><\/p>\n

\nConquering fate through high adventure,
\nkneeling not to bear the <\/b>load \u2014<\/span><\/p>\n

\nLittle recks if he has helpers or stands
\nlonely, dispossessed;<\/span><\/p>\n

\nHe is what he is and will not alter, lowers
\nnot his crest.\u201d <\/span><\/p>\n

Page \u2013 69<\/span><\/p>\n

<\/p>\n
<\/span><\/div>\n<\/div>\n
\n

III<\/span><\/b><\/p>\n

 <\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cMother, mother stony-natured, ore of
\npitiless iron black <\/span><\/p>\n

Heaven collected and together forged thy
\ndreadful heart to make. <\/span><\/p>\n

Mother mine, heroic-minded, high-disdaining
\ncommon mould, <\/span><\/p>\n

Dreadful is the warrior code of ethics that
\nour princes hold, <\/span><\/p>\n

Harsh, devoid of love and sweetness; thou my
\nmother driv\u2019st me on <\/span><\/p>\n

To the battle like a stranger, like another
\nwoman\u2019s son! <\/span><\/p>\n

Am I not thy child? has any other in thy
\nlove a part? <\/span><\/p>\n

Yet thy words are harsh and ruthless. Will
\nit please thy fiery heart <\/span><\/p>\n

If I lie in battle cold and in my stead thou
\nown the earth? <\/span><\/p>\n

What were all life\u2019s splendour, what were
\nbright and fair things worth? <\/span><\/p>\n

When thine eyes seek me in vain, will these
\nthings soothe their sad desire?\u201d <\/span><\/p>\n

But the mother answered still with words
\nthat breathed her soul of fire. <\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cDear my son, for joy or sorrow twofold is
\nthe great life\u2019s scope, <\/span><\/p>\n

To be righteous in our actions, to fulfil
\neach human hope. <\/span><\/p>\n

Private welfare, high religion, both alike
\nshould urge thee on. <\/span><\/p>\n

It has come at last, the mightiest hour of
\nall thy life, O son. <\/span><\/p>\n

Now if thou shouldst spurn occasion from
\nvile fear or pitifulness, <\/span><\/p>\n

All thy beauty were dishonoured and thy
\nstrength grows thy disgrace. <\/span><\/p>\n

When dishonour stains thee, should I shape
\nmy words to soothe thy mind? <\/span><\/p>\n

Like a she-mule\u2019s were my mother\u2019s love, a
\nbrutish impulse blind.<\/span><\/p>\n

Leave the path of fools and cowards,
\nvileness hated by the wise. <\/span><\/p>\n

Strange the sorcery of affection sealing up
\nthis people\u2019s eyes! <\/span><\/p>\n

But not mine! While only thou art noble, art
\nthou dear and loved. <\/span><\/p>\n

But a graceless son or grandchild by
\naspiring thoughts unmoved, <\/span><\/p>\n

Crude and brutish-brained with unformed
\nsoul, revolts a father\u2019s mind, <\/span><\/p>\n

Knowing he had all in vain his labour to
\ncreate his kind. <\/span><\/p>\n

Shrink not from a noble action, stoop not to
\nunworthy deed! <\/span><\/p>\n

Vile are they who stoop, they gain not
\nHeaven\u2019s doors, nor here succeed,<\/span><\/p>\n

Kshtriyas on this world were loosed for
\nbattle by their Maker high, <\/span><\/p>\n

Sunjoy, for the strife and victory, and they
\nconquer or they die. <\/span><\/p>\n

Ever by their doom of Nature to a labour
\nunrevoked <\/span><\/p>\n

And a fierce hard-hearted action for the
\npeople\u2019s safety yoked, <\/span><\/p>\n

Conquering or dying, glorious Indra\u2019s
\nradiant world they share:<\/span><\/p>\n

Yet his heavenly mansions to a warrior\u2019s
\nheart are not so dear <\/span><\/p>\n

As to dare and triumph, as the gust and
\nglory of the strife, <\/span><\/p>\n

As to set his foes beneath his feet and
\ndrink the joy of life.<\/span> <\/span><\/b><\/p>\n

Page \u2013 70<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t<\/p>\n
<\/span><\/div>\n

\nWhen the thinking soul of manhood is
\ninsulted and oppressed,
\n<\/span><\/p>\n

\nDeep he burns with fire for ever and revenge
\nis in his breast,
\n<\/span><\/p>\n

\nTill he\u2019s strong to hurl disfigured self
\naway and nobly cease
\n<\/span><\/p>\n

\nOr to crush the proud wrongdoer; other way
\nis none to peace.
\n<\/span><\/p>\n

\nWilt thou faint for difficulty and sorrow?
\nthey but strengthen men.
\n<\/span><\/p>\n

\nEven a little pleasure comes not here
\nwithout a little pain,<\/i><\/span><\/p>\n

\n <\/span><\/i>Without struggle no delight is and without
\ndelight the soul
\n<\/span><\/p>\n

\nCannot live, but ceases like the Ganges in
\nthe ocean\u2019s roll.\u201d
\n<\/span><\/p>\n

\n
\n <\/span><\/p>\n

\nThen King Sunjoy answered, faintly now, but
\nmaking once more moan.<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\u201cNot such counsel thou shouldst give me.
\nMother, still I am thy son.
\n<\/span><\/p>\n

\nBe as dumb men are, my mother, be as dull
\nand joyless things;<\/span><\/p>\n

\nLook to pity and softness only, not the iron
\nmoods of Kings.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\n
\n <\/span><\/p>\n

\n\u201cGreatest were my joy then if thy thoughts
\nlike mine grew eagle-eyed.
\n<\/span><\/p>\n

\nThou bidst me to woman\u2019s softness ? I bid
\nthee to masculine pride.<\/span><\/p>\n

\nWhen the men of Sindhu are not, blotted by
\nthy hands from life,
\n<\/span><\/p>\n

\nWhen thou winnest difficult victory from the
\nclutch of fearful strife,
\n<\/span><\/p>\n

\nI shall know thou art my offspring and shall
\nlove my son indeed.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\n
\n <\/span><\/p>\n

\nBut King Sunjoy, \u201cWhere have I a single
\nhelper in my need?<\/span><\/p>\n

\nAll alone what man can struggle? Without
\nmeans who groweth great?<\/span><\/p>\n

\nI have neither friends nor treasure; when I
\nview my dreadful state,<\/span><\/p>\n

\nFallen, helpless, wretched, all my sick
\nheart turns from useless toil<\/span><\/p>\n

\nAs a sinner lost despairs of heaven for a
\nthing so vile.<\/span><\/p>\n

\nBut, O mother, if thy wisdom find an issue
\nfrom this net,<\/span><\/p>\n

\nTell me, mother; I may do thy lofty bidding
\neven yet.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\n
\n <\/span><\/p>\n

\n\u201cNever scorn thyself for past defeat; be
\nbold and proud of heart.
\n<\/span><\/p>\n

\nFortune goes and comes again; she seeks us
\nonly to depart.
\n<\/span><\/p>\n

\nFoolish are those careful thinkers who would
\nponder all their days,
\n<\/span><\/p>\n

\nThinking this and that, and leap not to
\ntheir crown, ask perfect ways.
\n<\/span><\/p>\n

\nWhere is in the world an action whose result
\nis wholly sure ?
\n<\/span><\/p>\n

\nHere uncertainty\u2019s the one thing certain. To
\na noble lure
\n<\/span><\/p>\n

\nMan puts forth his manhood, wins and is or
\ndies in the attempt.
\n<\/span><\/p>\n

\nThey who act not, try not, they are nothing
\nand their crown contempt.
\n<\/span><\/p>\n

\nSingle is inaction\u2019s nature to forego Fate\u2019s
\nmighty call:<\/span><\/p>\n

\nDouble-edged high aspiration wins life\u2019s
\nthrone or loses all.<\/span> <\/span><\/p>\n

Page \u2013 71<\/span><\/p>\n

<\/p>\n
<\/span><\/div>\n

\nKnowing that his life is transient, sure of
\nits uncertainties
\n<\/span><\/p>\n

\nSwift the hero clashing with adversity
\njostles for increase.
\n<\/span><\/p>\n

\nAll you who are men, awake and rise and
\nstruggle; free and great
\n<\/span><\/p>\n

\nNow resolve to be and shrink not from the
\ndangerous face of Fate.
\n<\/span><\/p>\n

\nBe you resolute for victory; this shall drag
\nher to your side,
\n<\/span><\/p>\n

\nFor the iron will takes Fortune captive like
\na vanquished bride.<\/span><\/p>\n

\nCall the gods to bless thy purpose; set the
\nBrahmin\u2019s subtle brain<\/span><\/p>\n

\nAnd the nation\u2019s princes in thy vanguard;
\nfight! thou shalt attain.<\/span><\/p>\n

\nThere are angered bold ambitious natures,
\nmany a breast<\/span><\/p>\n

\nArrogant and active, there are men insulted
\nand disgraced<\/span><\/p>\n

\nBy the foreign tyrant, there are soaring
\nspirits that aspire,<\/span><\/p>\n

\nMinds of calm courageous wisdom, quiet
\nstrengths and souls of fire,<\/span><\/p>\n

\nDesperate men with broken fortunes; link
\nthyself to these and dare.<\/span><\/p>\n

\nCare not for his giant armies, care not for
\nhis tools of war.<\/span><\/p>\n

\nWith these native flames to help thee, those
\nshall break like piles of cloud<\/span><\/p>\n

\nWhen a mighty storm awakes in heaven and the
\nwinds grow loud.<\/span><\/p>\n

\nGive them precedence, rise to yield them
\ncourtesy, speak them ever fair:<\/span><\/p>\n

\nThey shall make thee then their leader and
\nfor thee shall do and dare.
\n<\/span><\/p>\n

\nWhen the tyrant sees his conquered foeman
\ncareless grown of death,
\n<\/span><\/p>\n

\nBent on desperate battle, he will tremble,
\nhe will hold his breath
\n<\/span><\/p>\n

\nLike a man who sees a Python lashing forward
\nfor the grip.
\n<\/span><\/p>\n

\nDoubtless he will strive to soothe or tame
\nthee, but if thou escape
\n<\/span><\/p>\n

\nHis deceit and violence, he will parley,
\ngive and take for peace.
\n<\/span><\/p>\n

\nSo at least there\u2019s gained a respite and
\ngood terms for thy increase.
\n<\/span><\/p>\n

\nRespite and a footing gained, then gather
\nwealth to swell thy force.
\n<\/span><\/p>\n

\nFriends and helpers crowd around him who has
\nmoney and resource,
\n<\/span><\/p>\n

\nBut the poor man they abandon and they shun
\nhis feeble state,
\n<\/span><\/p>\n

\nLosing confidence, saying, \u2018Where are then
\nhis means and favouring fate?\u2019
\n<\/span><\/p>\n

\nWhen thy foe shall grow thy helper, sessions
\nnew and treaties make,
\n<\/span><\/p>\n

\nThen thou\u2019lt understand how easy \u2018twas to
\nwin thy kingdom back.\u201d <\/span><\/p>\n

Page \u2013 72<\/span><\/p>\n

<\/p>\n
<\/span><\/div>\n<\/div>\n
\n

IV<\/span><\/b><\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cNever should a prince and leader bow his
\nhaughty head to fear, <\/span><\/p>\n

Let his fortune be however desperate, death
\nhowever near. <\/span><\/p>\n

If his soul grow faint, let him imprison
\nweakness in his heart, <\/span><\/p>\n

Keep a bold and open countenance and play on
\na hero\u2019s part. <\/span><\/p>\n

If the leader fear and faint, then all
\nbehind him faint and fear. <\/span><\/p>\n

So a king of men should keep a dauntless
\nlook and forehead clear. <\/span><\/p>\n

Now this nation and this army and the
\nstatesmen of the land, <\/span><\/p>\n

All are torn by different counsels and they
\npart to either hand. <\/span><\/p>\n

Some affect as yet the foreign tyrant, many
\nleave his side, <\/span><\/p>\n

Others yet shall leave him, frowning, for
\nhis insults and his pride. <\/span><\/p>\n

Some there are, thy friends who love thee,
\nbut they serve and eat his bread, <\/span><\/p>\n

Weak, though praying for thy welfare, like
\npoor cattle bound and led, <\/span><\/p>\n

Like a cow that sees her calf tied, so they
\nserve reluctantly, <\/span><\/p>\n

Yet they sorrow in thy sorrow, weeping as
\nfor kin that die. <\/span><\/p>\n

Some there are whom thou hast loved and
\nhonoured, loyal friends of old, <\/span><\/p>\n

Who believe yet in the nation though its
\nking grow faint and cold. <\/span><\/p>\n

Yield not to thy fear, O Sunjoy; let not
\nsuch thy side forsake <\/span><\/p>\n

Scorning thy poor terrors. Wake for victory,
\nSunjoy! Warrior, wake! <\/span><\/p>\n

I have laboured to provoke the will, the
\nstrength thy heart<\/i> within. <\/span><\/p>\n

All is truth I\u2019ve uttered and thou knowst
\nit; thy despair was sin. <\/span><\/p>\n

Know that thou hast still great treasure,
\nknow that I have funds concealed,<\/span><\/p>\n

Mighty stores that I alone know; thou shalt
\nhave them for the field. <\/span><\/p>\n

Know that thou hast numerous secret helpers,
\nfriends who wait their hour, <\/span><\/p>\n

Daring to endure privation and disaster\u2019s
\nutmost power.<\/span><\/p>\n

They shall turn not backward from the
\nbattle, they are helpers, friends       <\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

Such as daring souls aspirant need for their
\ngigantic ends.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

So she spoke with words of varied splendour
\nurging him to dare <\/span><\/p>\n

Till his gloom and shadow left him and his
\nfoolish weak despair.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cO thou strong and resolute speaker, even
\nthe feeblest fainting soul <\/span><\/p>\n

Would put darkness from him, listening, for
\nthy words would make him whole. <\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/span><\/p>\n

I will high uphold my country in its swift
\nprecipitous fate, <\/span><\/p>\n

Having thee to lead me on whose vision past
\nand future wait. <\/span><\/p>\n

My denial and my silence were but craft;
\nconsent deferred <\/span><\/p>\n

Drew thee on to speak lest I should lose
\neven one inspiring word.<\/span> <\/span><\/p>\n

Page \u2013 73<\/span><\/p>\n

<\/p>\n
\n

<\/span><\/div>\n

It is sudden nectar to the desolate to find
\na friend!<\/span><\/p>\n

Now I rise to smite the foe and cease not
\ntill I make an end.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

On he rushed to desperate battle burning in
\nhis pride and might,<\/span><\/p>\n

As a noble war-horse wounded rushes faster
\nto the fight.<\/span><\/p>\n

Stung with arrows of her speech he did his
\nmother\u2019s high command<\/span><\/p>\n

Driving out the foe and stranger, freeing
\nall the conquered land.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/span><\/p>\n

Lo, this strong and famous poem that shall
\nmake men gods for might,<\/span><\/p>\n

Kindling fiery joy of battle. When a King
\nhas lost the fight<\/span><\/p>\n

By his foemen whelmed and broken, let his
\nwell-wishers and friends<\/span><\/p>\n

Read to him this poem. All who need high
\nstrength for noble ends,<\/span><\/p>\n

Let them read it daily; for the warrior
\nhearing turns to flame,<\/span><\/p>\n

Tramples down a hundred foemen and acquires
\na deathless name.<\/span><\/p>\n

And the pregnant woman who shall hear it day
\nby day<\/span><\/p>\n

Bears a hero or a strong man dowered with
\nstrength to help or slay,<\/span><\/p>\n

Or a soul of grandiose virtues, or a helper
\nof the Light,<\/span><\/p>\n

Or a glorious giver blazing with the
\nspirit\u2019s radiance bright.<\/span><\/p>\n

But a daughter of high princes and a
\nfighter\u2019s wife shall bear<\/span><\/p>\n

Splendid like a flame and swift and
\nfortunate, strong to dare,<\/span><\/p>\n

Unapproachable in battle and invincible in
\nwar,<\/span><\/p>\n

Armed champion of the right, injustice\u2019
\nscourge, some human star. <\/span><\/p>\n

Page \u2013 74<\/span><\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/td>\n

\n

 <\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<\/table>\n<\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<\/table>\n<\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

                                                                     VIDULA   This poem is based on a passage comprising four chapters (Adhyayas) in the Udyog-parva of the Mahabharata. It is not a close…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[12],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-593","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-08-translations-volume-08","wpcat-12-id"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/worksofthemotherandsriaurobindo.org\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/593","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/worksofthemotherandsriaurobindo.org\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/worksofthemotherandsriaurobindo.org\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/worksofthemotherandsriaurobindo.org\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/worksofthemotherandsriaurobindo.org\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=593"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/worksofthemotherandsriaurobindo.org\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/593\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/worksofthemotherandsriaurobindo.org\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=593"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/worksofthemotherandsriaurobindo.org\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=593"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/worksofthemotherandsriaurobindo.org\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=593"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}